My obsession with the Sixth Street Viaduct and its deconstruction apparently originates from many sources, impulses and desires. Unfulfilled dreams perhaps? It began soon after settling into the DTLA loft in September 2015. Every photographer, and every painter for that matter, needs a subject, a starting point, a conceptual premise in which they can immerse themselves. I found mine as the days of exploring and shooting the bridge turned into weeks, then months, then a year. My initial infatuation with the viaduct expanded exponentially as I spent more and more time looking at it and shooting it. The more time I spent in Los Angeles the more I realized the considerable impact of the bridge, its demolition and its future.

I’d been aware of the iconic nature of the Sixth Street Viaduct since studying at Otis Art Institute years ago. Who in LA wasn’t aware of it? Moving into an area so close to the bridge and learning of its imminent demise somehow heightened its presence. Even though I couldn’t see it from the loft, it loomed weighty and melancholic. I knew its days were numbered. I sensed it did too. The realization that this monumental architectural “celebrity” would be demolished was staggering to me. I imagined the ambitious complications and engineering wizardry in its tearing down would equal its construction. It fascinated me. How would it be accomplished? And, in only a year?

Artists can start a project with one thing in mind. Perhaps on a whim or instinct, which sows the seed of a concept. As I delved deeper into the Sixth Street Viaduct and its history, its current state, anticipated demolition and rebirth my intentions evolved and grew more complex. As I persevered, the project shifted, altered and became clearer. I was swept into its labyrinth.  

All images shot with a Canon 5D Mark III. All words and images are copyright © 2015, 2016, or 2017 Lawrence Fodor and may not be reproduced of copied without the written consent of the artist. Archival inkjet or lightjet prints are available in editions of 3 - each size: 17 x 22 inches, 24 x 36 inches and 40 x 60 inches. Please contact the studio for more information.

Along with shooting down in the LA River channel, most every day I was in Los Angeles I would venture east across the Seventh or Fourth Street Bridges to document the progress of the demolition from that perspective and location. The viaduct structure was equally as monumental on the western periphery of Boyle Heights in the industrial/warehouse zone, where the demolition began. After a miraculously quick 40-hour demo of the 250-foot concrete span over the 101 Freeway, the spans running west towards downtown were pummeled by a fleet of enormous excavators with hydraulic jack hammers up on the roadway itself, leaving behind stands of colossal columns three abreast. Appearing like Roman ruins with the gleaming electric skyline of downtown Los Angeles in the distance, the columns felt and looked apocalyptic. Remnants of 1930’s grandeur – bombed out and destroyed with intention and a greater purpose.

The groups of columns that were adjacent to existing buildings and warehouses, many of them art galleries, were draped with wire mesh on the building side - vast hanging sheets of sheer chain mail. These metal draperies protected the existing buildings from the crumbling falling debris as the excavators chipped away at the structure. The crews managed to insulate the existing businesses from damage simply but effectively. And the draperies were beautiful, almost translucent, like looking through lace as they heightened the elegant scale of the columns. 

After posting a few of my photographs of the “column felling” on my Instagram feed a crew member, who happened to be in the photos, saw them and recognized himself. He contacted me and we started communicating fairly regularly. He would tell me when the crews were working at night – which became my favorite time to shoot - especially when the torch crews would cut exposed rebar from the tops of the pillars. Showers of red-orange-yellow burning waterfalls would spray out in an arc to the ground and bathe the columns with a warm orange glow, accompanied by the hiss of the oxy-acetylene torches. Laden with chunks of concrete, the torches would keep cutting the rebar and the sparks would fly until the weight of the concrete and its captive steel strands would break free and plummet to the earth.

I continued to shoot the demolition work on the east side of the LA River and on the section of the viaduct directly over the LA River. Crossing the multiple railroad tracks was tricky and dangerous, but I was always careful not to cross when there was an outgoing or incoming train. Most of the tracks had stationary lines of boxcars or tank cars. I would slip under them to position myself for the best view of the continuing work on the bridge. Usually there was a stationary train adjacent to the river, or a few tracks away where I could set my tripod between two train cars and shoot with an unobstructed view of the viaduct. I was hidden from the occasional guard patrolling the area and I would photograph for hours, late into the night.

At the tail end of May, 2015, I journeyed to Chaco Canyon for three days. I hadn't been in about 25 years. I used to go every summer as a stop over on road trips to and from Santa Fe from Santa Barbara in the late 1980’s. Far too long a time had lapsed since I'd been there. Far too long.

All images shot with a Canon 5D Mark III. All words and images are copyright © 2015 Lawrence Fodor and may not be reproduced of copied without the written consent of the artist.

Archival pigment prints for select images in editions of 5 @ 17 x 22 inches and 3 @ 24 x 36 inches are available through Obscura Gallery, Santa Fe, New Mexico:

www.obscuragallery.net

info@obscuragallery.net

https://www.obscuragallery.net/artwork/inventory/21st-century-photographers/lawrence-fodor/chaco-canyon/

With every visit I have made to Chaco Canyon a unique exchange occurs while I am there - a discourse – with the land, the collective memories unearthed in the dust and dirt as I wander, the antiquity, the moment, the monument – and the people that accompany me. This trip was no exception. 

I leave a bit of my soul every time I'm in Chaco Canyon, but I also take something unmistakable back with me. Indelible. Always.

The photographs on this page were all taken by Lawrence Fodor with an iPhone 6. All words and images are copyright © 2015 Lawrence Fodor and may not be reproduced of copied without the written consent of the artist.

Archival pigment prints for select images in editions of 5 @ 12 x 24 inches and 3 @ 20 x 40 inches are available through Obscura Gallery, Santa Fe, New Mexico:

www.obscuragallery.net

info@obscuragallery.net

https://www.obscuragallery.net/artwork/inventory/21st-century-photographers/lawrence-fodor/chaco-canyon/